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Marmaduke Multiply Stories 


I. 


BY 



CAROLINE STARR MORGAN 

s 

Author of ‘ Ways that Win,” “Esther Lawrence,” and 
“Charlotte’s Revenge” 



PHILADELPHIA 

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY 
1420 Chestnut Street 


NOV 30 1897 




Q ‘-f U ^ 

TWO CcSk «K8lVt0 






Copyright 1897 by the 

American Baptist Publication Society 



jFrom tbe Society’s own ipreoo 


Hffcctionatels 2)e^^cate^ to 

Charlie, Rhoda, and Cecile 

BY THEIR 

"AUNT CARRIE" 


OnCy two. 

Buckle my shoe. 

Threey fouTy 
Shut the door. 

Fivey siXy 
Pick up sticks. 

SeveHy eighty 

Lay them straight. 

Nme-y teUy 
A goody fat hen. 

Eleveny twelvey 
The old axe helve. 

—Marmaduke Multiply. 


CONTENTS 

The Queer Old woman. 7 

The Clever Parrot.31 

PHIL’S Three Wishes.51 

The “ Sure-enough ” Fairy. 75 










THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


** One^ two. 

Buckle my shoe.^^ 


I 



Harold Mortimer, “Hal,” as he 
was called for short, was a handsome boy, 
with flashing black eyes, wavy dark hair, 
a curling lip, and the air of a young 
prince. 

He was only nine years old and still 
wore the shortest of knee breeches, broad 
white collars, and gay-colored ties, and 
when he happened to be in good humor, 
liked nothing better than to ride on his 
father’s foot or cuddle in his mother’s 
arms. But for all this, he was in his own 
opinion as important a person as the sun 
shone upon, and was quite sure that what 
Master Hal Mortimer did not know was 
not worth the knowing. 

So it was no wonder that his little 
friends did not like him very much, for 
they thought they knew something too, 
and did not fancy being treated as if they 

9 
















lo MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

were nobodies, or good for nothing but 
to be ordered about by him. Because of , 
this Hal did not have as happy a time as 
the other boys did, and he often won¬ 
dered at it, for nobody else had such a 
beautiful home or so many fine things. 
Why, his was the only Shetland pony and 
baby dog-cart in town; his great St. Ber¬ 
nard was far bigger than any one^s else 
dog, his croquet lawn the best, his play¬ 
ground the nicest, his clothes the hand¬ 
somest, and there wasn’t a single boy in 
the school who had a real gold watch, to 
say nothing about the chain, with the 
cunning little gold Bible for a charm. 

There was not another boy whose father 
and mother let him do exactly what he 
wanted to do. Most of the boys and 
the girls too, had to mind whether they 
wanted to or not, but Hal, little as he 
was, knew very well that he ruled his 
father and mother, that his big sisters 
were his slaves, and that when he wanted 
his own way, all he had to do was to 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


II 


scream and stamp his pretty slender foot 
which, little and dainty as it was in its 
high buttoned boot, could make a pretty 
big noise when he chose to have it do so. 

So perhaps it is not surprising that he 
came to be a very willful, selfish little boy, 
who was bound to do as he had a mind 
to, who cared nothing for the rights of 
others, who never thought of such a 
thing as trying to make any one else glad 
or happy, and who was sour and cross if 
things did not go just as he wished to 
have them. 

Handsome he was, to be sure, and 
bright and smart, and smiling and jolly 
when he could play the part of a little 
king, with all the school for his court. 
But he was so hateful when anything was 
asked of him that he did not like, and so 
unwilling that any one else should have a 
mind of his own, that he was disliked 
and shunned; while Harry Horton, who 
was homely and not very smart, and whose 
father was poor and lived in a little frame 


12 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

house and sold flowers and garden truck 
for a living, was a great favorite and was 
always wanted in every game or bit of 
pleasure, whenever or wherever it might 
be. 

Harry was a dear little boy, gentle, un- 
selflsh, always even-tempered and happy, 
and so obliging and self-forgetful that he 
was like a little ray of sunshine. He was 
always ready with kind words and bright 
smiles. Though his clothes were some¬ 
times patched and he more than once 
had to stay at home to help his father in 
the garden or greenhouse, he was always 
missed and gladly welcomed back. 

Now this state of things did not suit 
selfish Hal at all, and every day he grew 
more and more vexed at Harry. He 
made up faces at him on the sly, laughed 
at his clothes, teased him every time he 
had a chance, told naughty stories about 
him, and would have liked nothing better 
than to kick him with that pretty little 
foot of his, if he had only dared. All 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


13 


this was because Harry was the favorite 
and he was not. 

But the good fairy who had always 
loved Harry better than all the other boys 
and girls, made up her mind that proud, 
selfish Hal, should not hurt her especial 
pet. So, away off in the beautiful fairy¬ 
land where she lived, she set some of her 
wonderful forces at work, and I’ll try and 
tell you a little bit of what she did. 

She sent pretty Eyrie, her fairy page, 
for her great golden mortar and her beau¬ 
tiful pestle, made of rock crystal, which 
sparkled like diamonds in the rainbow 
light of fairyland. 

While he was gone she laid aside her 
beautiful, misty robes, which were made 
of lovely bits of the blue sky trimmed 
with borders of crimson clouds, and 
dressed herself in a common old cotton 
gown, with a big poke bonnet on her 
head, and queer pointed shoes, that were 
fastened with the funniest, old-fashioned 
steel buckles, on her feet. Then wrap- 






14 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

ping herself in a cloud, which made her 
quite invisible to common eyes, she went 
sailing through the air, down, down, 
down, until she landed just a little ways 
from Hal, who was on his way home from 
school. 

He was not in a very good temper, 
for nothing had gone to suit him that day. 
He had been full of play, instead of full 
of study, so his lessons had gone a-beg¬ 
ging, and he had received several bad 
marks, which he was sure should never 
have been given to such an important boy 
as Hal Mortimer. But this wasn't all, 
for he had been reproved by his teacher 
for his selfishness in refusing to share a 
little of his lunch with little Fanny Har¬ 
ris, who had none while he had more 
than enough. And then that “hateful 
Willy Stone, mean thing," would not 
give him some of his peanuts, and said, 
“You sha’n't have any, because you 
never give me, or anybody else, any of 
yours." 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 15 

No wonder that he was about as vexed 
as could be, and had a kind of a black 
thundercloud on his face that told the 
other boys, and the girls too, that they 
would better keep clear of him. So he 
was left all to himself, and was walking 
slowly along, kicking some little pebbles 
before him, thinking of what a horrid 
cross teacher he had, and what a stingy 
fellow Willy Stone was, when he suddenly 
caught sight of the queerest-looking little 
old woman coming toward him. 

She was still quite a little ways off, so 
he took a good look at her, and then, 
very rudely, burst out laughing. She 
looked funny sure enough, with that big 
poke bonnet, the short calico gown, with 
its great, sprawling yellow flowers, and 
the odd blue umbrella; but he had no 
business to laugh at her as he knew well. 

As they met she stuck out her foot, 
with its queer, old pointed shoe and the 
enormous steel buckle, that looked as if it 
might have come out of the ark. 


i6 MARMAD UKE MUL TIPL V STORIES 

“ Good-morrow, my handsome little 
man,’' she said, in a sharp, high voice. 
“Please to buckle my shoe; it’s un¬ 
fastened, and I’m old and my back is 
weak and bent. 

One, two, buckle my shoe. 

Thorns are plenty, but roses are few.” 

But selfish Hal had no notion of oblig¬ 
ing anybody, especially such ‘ ‘ a queer 
old thing,” so he made up a face, kicked 
out his foot at her, and ran off with all 
his might, calling her an “ old beggar.” 
She shook her long finger at him, and 
went on, muttering angrily: 

“ One, two, buckle my shoe, 

A pretty mess I’ll brew for you.” 

She had not gone far before she met 
Harry Horton, not all by himself, as Hal 
was, but skipping along with two or three 
other boys. They had had good lessons 
and a happy day, so they were full of fun 
and frolic and ready for anything that 
might come along. 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 17 

“ Good-morrow, my pretty boys," said 
the old woman, nodding her big bonnet, 
and thrusting out her foot, with its queer 
shoe and shining buckle. “Please won^t 
one of you buckle my shoe ? It’s un¬ 
fastened, and I am old, and my back is 
weak and bent. 

One, two, buckle my shoe, 

Roses are plenty, and thorns are few.” 

“Oh, isn’t she funny?’’ exclaimed 
Harry, with a twinkle in his bright eye. 
“ But, poor thing. I’ll do it,’’ and down 
he went on his knee, and slipped the 
strap through the big buckle in a trice, 
while the other boys looked on, wonder¬ 
ing where in the world she could have 
come from. They all felt a good deal 
like laughing at such an oddity, but man¬ 
aged to hold the smiles in, and keep 
their faces straight. 

She looked at them all with a knowing 
look, and patting Harry on the back with 
her skinny hand whispered: 

B 


18 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


“ One, two, buckle my shoe. 

Everything lovely is made for you,” 

and then suddenly disappeared, in the 
most mysterious fashion. 

The boys looked at each other in 
astonishment. What could have become 
of her ? and who in the world was she ? 

“Oh, I bet she was a fairy,** said 
Willy Stone. 

“A fairy!** repeated Charlie Hale. 
“ Why, fairies are always beautiful, and 
she was too ugly for anything. You 
can*t make me believe that she was a 
fairy.** 

‘ ‘ If she had been a beautiful fairy, 
rd just have fastened her shoe quick,** 
said Johnny Ray. 

“So would I,** said Bert Mason; 
“but she was such a queer old thing 
that I didn’t want to touch it, and I won¬ 
dered that Harry did.** 

“Oh, he*ll do anything for anybody, 
you know,** said Willy Stone. 

“Well, it didn*t hurt,** said Harry 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


19 


laughing; “ and poor old soul, I felt sorry 
for her. But let’s see who’ll get to the 
liberty pole first,” and off they went, 
while the old woman from her invisible 
cloud watched them as if she too en¬ 
joyed the fun. 

“Oh, the bonny boys! ” she said to 
herself. “ * Pretty is that pretty does,* 
and they might all be pretty if they had 
a mind to, for a pretty face doesn’t count 
for much, after all, as that saucy Hal 
shows every day of his poor little life. 
He’d better have been on his good be¬ 
havior, as he’ll soon find out,” and draw¬ 
ing the soft, invisible cloud a little more 
closely around her, she floated away, 
clear away, to the distant fairyland, 
where she dropped her old garments and 
was again the lovely fairy. Charlie Hale 
would have exclaimed then, for she was 
just as beautiful as he was sure all fairies 
were, and ought to be. 

A little group of fays gathered about 
her, to hear of all she had seen and done. 


and Eyrie came bringing the golden mor¬ 
tar and crystal pestle, all ready to receive 
his further orders, which the good fairy 
gave in a decided way that showed she 
knew exactly what she was going to do. 

“ It will go hard with that selfish Hal,'" 
whispered one little fay to another, with 
a wise shake of his head; “ but we won't 
feel sorry about it, for he is so selfish that 
he deserves it,” and gathering around 
Eyrie and the fairy, they watched to see 
what she would do. 

She stood before the great golden 
mortar, and opening several little pack¬ 
ages that Eyrie handed her, dropped the 
fine black seeds that each contained, into 
it. Then she took the crystal pestle, that 
sparkled with all the colors of a rainbow, 
and with quick motions crushed them un¬ 
til the little seeds became a fine black 
powder, all the time murmuring a little 
song, which no one but fairies could un¬ 
derstand. When the seeds had all dis¬ 
appeared, and the powder was as fine as 






THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


21 


could be, she put it into a little bag, made 
of the edge of a black thunder cloud, 
and gave it to Eyrie, who hung it care¬ 
fully on a golden peg. 

After this she did the same thing 
again, although this time the seeds she 
put into the mortar were all white, instead 
of black, and the song she sang was far 
sweeter than the other one. Again the 
sparkling pestle went busily up and down, 
and again the crushed seeds were turned 
into a fine powder, but this time it was of 
^a silvery white, instead of a sombre black. 

When the mixture was all ready, there 
was Eyrie with another little bag, which 
just seemed to fit the shining pestle and 
glowing mortar, for it was formed out of 
a little streak of sunshine, which had lost 
its way and was happy because it had 
been found. It was just big enough to 
hold the silvery powder, which was as 
fragrant as the sweet lilies-of-the-valley. 
It was filled and securely closed. 

The orders were given to the little page 


22 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


who stood waiting while the train of fays 
stayed around eagerly listening. Then 
with a touch of her magic wand, the fairy 
turned him into a snow-white carrier 
pigeon, and away he flew, with a tiny 
bag under each wing, while a whole 
chorus of fairies, big and little, chanted 
a lovely melody, which wished him good 
speed on his errand. 

He knew his way well, for he was one 
of the trusted messengers of fairyland, 
and had been on many such trips before. 
So he skimmed through the air, quite at 
home, though unseen and unheard by the 
dull eyes and ears down on the earth, and 
flnding his way into HaFs pretty bed¬ 
room, dropped one of the little bags on 
his upturned face, as he lay fast asleep on 
his dainty bed. 

It opened noiselessly, and a fine black 
powder covered him from head to foot. 
It fell so gently that it did not waken 
him, and quickly forming into a dark, 
dense cloud, it bore him off, away, away 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


23 


from his pleasant home toward fairyland 
far in the distance, while the white¬ 
winged messenger sped on his farther 
journey to Harry's humble home. 

There he was, in the bright and early 
morning, working away in his father’s 
garden, and saying some of his lessons 
over to himself. The snowy pigeon hov¬ 
ered over him for a minute or two, but 
Harry did not see him, and then dropped 
the little silvery bag gently on his curly 
head. He felt something but knew not 
what, and looking up to see, was sud¬ 
denly lifted from the ground, and the 
next minute felt himself floating through 
the air, as light as a feather, although he 
could not imagine what was carrying him 
along. 

A thin veil, or something like it, seemed 
to wrap him about, or else his eyes were 
shut so tight that he could not open them, 
for he could see nothing, and wondered 
what had happened and where he could 
be going all that long time. Someway it 


24 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

seemed to be all right and he was not a 
bit afraid, which was surprising, as he 
was rather a timid, shy little boy. Then 
the feeling, as if he were being borne 
through the air on wings, was delightful, 
and he had half a mind to wish it would 
keep on for a long time. 

At last it stopped, his eyes were sud¬ 
denly opened, and he found himself in 
the most charming place, where every¬ 
thing beautiful he had ever thought or 
dreamed of, seemed to be gathered. 
Lovely beings, quite different from any 
he had ever seen on earth, were moving 
about on all sides; birds of radiant plum¬ 
age were singing the sweetest songs, and 
such flowers as had never graced his 
father’s greenhouse, choice as it was, 
were blooming on every side, filling the 
air with the most delicious fragrance. 

Everything was so new and beautiful 
that he looked around bewildered and 
confused, hardly knowing what had hap¬ 
pened to him, and fearing lest all would 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 25 

vanish before he knew what it meant. 
But that sense of strangeness lasted for 
only a moment, for a choir of lovely 
little fays, in shimmering dress, formed a 
circle around him, and singing, “Wel¬ 
come, welcome,” in sweetest tones, each 
kissed his hand, and presented him with 
her favorite flower. 

Then the fairy came to meet him, car¬ 
rying a sparkling coronet, and looking as 
if she was the sweetest being in the uni¬ 
verse. 

“You were a dear child on the earth 
below,” she said gently; “kind, mod¬ 
est, unselfish, and truthful. You ever 
forgot yourself and tried to make others 
happy, and now it is your turn, for such 
a life always has its reward. I crown 
you a fairy prince for a thousand and one 
days, which will seem only one week to 
your friends, and welcome you gladly to 
our beautiful fairyland, which always re¬ 
joices to greet such a pure spirit,” and 
waving her magic wand, she placed the 


26 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

Sparkling circle on his head, and kissing 
his hand whispered: 

“ One, two, buckle my shoe. 

Everything lovely is made for you.” 

“ Oh, I know you, I know you,'’ he 
exclaimed joyously. “You were the 
queer old woman, in the big poke bonnet 
and buckled shoes, and I guess that you 
came down to earth just to see what we 
boys would do. We wondered and won¬ 
dered what became of you, and oh, how 
glad I am that I did what you asked me! 
It will be just beautiful to live in fairy¬ 
land.” 

“ That is because you are worthy of it, 
for none but those who are unselfish and 
true-hearted can breathe in its pure air. 
Others would stifle.” 

“But I am such a homely little boy 
that I shouldn’t think you’d want me 
where everything is so beautiful,” said 
Harry rather sadly. 

“I have cared for that,” she said. 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 27 

with her sweet smile. “You have not 
seen yourself since the touch of my magic 
wand, and the placing of the crown on 
your head." She gently turned him 
around, and as he caught a glimpse of 
himself and his glittering train of attend¬ 
ant fays in one of the great crystal mir¬ 
rors he gave an exclamation of astonish¬ 
ment and delight at the sight. 

Hal too reached fairyland in the black 
cloud which had borne him away, but his 
journey had been a dreary one. There 
had been rumblings and strange noises 
around him; it was very dark and he 
could see nothing, and the air was hot 
and oppressive. He felt that he was 
being carried along, though he could not 
imagine by what, and was sure something 
dreadful was happening to him. 

Instead of wishing, like Harry, that he 
could float on for a long time, he longed 
to stop, though half afraid of what was 
coming next. Stop at last he did, for 
as the cloud touched the golden gate into 








28 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

fairyland, it burst open with a roaring 
noise, which frightened him, and before 
him stood the queer old woman, with the 
poke bonnet and the buckled shoes. 

“ One, two, buckle my shoe. 

Thorns are many, and roses are few,” 

she muttered, in angry voice. “You 
didn’t expect to see me here, did you, 
my pretty boy? ” 

Her eyes flashed as she spoke; she 
stamped her foot; and Hal was scared, 
wondering what she was going to do 
next. His conscience pricked him a lit¬ 
tle in his fear, and so he said, in trem¬ 
bling tones: 

‘ ‘ I wish I had done what you asked 
me to, and hadn’t called you names.” 

“Oh, you know me, I see, my poor 
little man; but it’s too late to be sorry 
now. You ought to have thought of that 
sooner. This is fairyland, where I dwell 
when I am not down on earth looking 
after the boys and girls. I found out all 


THE QUEER OLD WOMAN 


29 


about you there, and this is no place for 
such as you. Selfish, willful children, 
those who think of no one but themselves, 
who are never ready to do for others, 
who are ever taking, but never giving, 
would be out of place where all is love, 
and where each one takes for his motto 
the Golden Rule.” 

“Oh, dear, dear, what is going to 
become of me?” thought poor Hal with 
a shudder. “ I wish I’d been different.” 

“We have a place for such as you, 
where, whether you like it or not, you 
must live for others’ good, and there you 
shall stay, doing without a word of com¬ 
plaint just what you are told to do.” 

“Oh, I will, I will,” said Hal obedi¬ 
ently, hardly daring to utter a word. 
“ But for how long? ” 

“That depends upon yourself,” she 
replied. “Show us what you can do, 
and then we shall know how to answer 
your question ; but no more of this now,” 
and taking him by the hand, she led him 


30 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


away from the delights he longed to share, 
and pointing to a certain corner of a 
gloomy room she said: 

“Fairyland needs new workmen; the 
tiny snow-white horses of our new young 
prince, your old schoolmate, Harry Hor¬ 
ton, wear golden shoes. Here is your 
forge, here your tools, and here shall you 
spend your days in work, here, right in 
sight of the joys and pleasures of our en¬ 
chanting world.Then dropping her 
grotesque garb, she was changed into a 
vision of wondrous beauty and disap¬ 
peared in a blaze of glory through the 
lofty, jeweled gates, softly singing: 

“One, two, buckle my shoe. 

Thorns are many, and roses are few.” 

Poor Hal, after watching for the last 
glimpse of her, sank down on the hard 
floor, and covering his face with his 
hands, burst into penitent tears. 









THE CLEVER PARROT 


“ Three, four, 
Shut the door.’' 



Her real name was Kitty Ray, and she 
was a bright little ten-year-old girl, who 
lived in a pleasant home, had many 
brothers and sisters, and was a great pet, 
not only with them, but with almost 
every one who knew her. She was an 
eager, earnest little body, full of life and 
spirits, and so affectionate and so pretty 
in her ways and manners that it was easy 
enough to love her. 

But in spite of all this she had another 
name and it was not a nice name at all, 
for when any one spoke of “Heedless 
Kitty,” every one knew that it meant lit¬ 
tle Kitty Ray, this same pretty Kitty. 
Wasn’t it a shame? Indeed it was; but 
sad to say, the name belonged to her. 
She had fairly earned it for a long time 
before, and as each day went by it 
seemed to belong to her more and more, 
for if anywhere in all the wide, wide 

c 33 













34 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

world there was a heedless, forgetful lit¬ 
tle girl, it was this same pretty Kitty. 

“She is getting worse and worse all 
the time,'’ said her sister Agnes, who 
was a very methodical young lady and 
had little patience with Kitty’s careless¬ 
ness. 

“That’s so,” growled her big brother 
Fred. “She ought to be tied up until 
she learns to remember to shut the doors 
and gates after her. The pigs had a 
walk in her favorite flower garden this 
morning, and come to find out, she had 
left both gates wide open as usual.” 

“Why, it would be just dreadful to 
tie her up,” said tender-hearted little 
Will; “and she’ll be heartbroken when 
she finds that the pigs have spoiled all 
her pretty flowers.” 

“It’s her own fault,” replied Fred. 
‘ ‘ She never thinks of such a thing as 
shutting either doors or gates behind her. 
It’s a nuisance, and she ought to be 
broken-hearted. Can’t help loving her. 


THE CL E FEE PARROT 


35 


though," he added gently, “ she’s such 
a bewitching dot of a thing." 

“I should think she'd get dreadful 
tired of hearing ‘ Shut the door, shut the 
door! ’ ‘ Don’t forget, don’t forget! ’ 

whenever she’s going anywhere or going 
to do anything," said little Will sympa- 
thizingly. “I couldn’t stand it." 

“She’s so used to it that I suppose 
she doesn’t mind it much," answered 
Agnes. “It would be better if she did; 
perhaps then she would remember. I 
don’t see what in the world we are going 
to do about it; it seems impossible to 
break it up." 

“Oh, I’m seized with an idea!" ex¬ 
claimed Fred, jumping up and clapping 
his hands. 

‘‘ What is it? what is it? ’’ eagerly 
asked Will, clapping his small hands in 
sympathy. 

“Oh, that’s a secret," replied Fred. 
“But I’m going to play a joke on her, 
teach her a lesson; and I venture to 


36 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL V STORIES 

promise that I’ll make her come to time. 
It will be jolly good fun,” and he went 
through an open window, turning a somer¬ 
sault over a chair on the way, seeming to 
be bubbling over with glee. 

“ I do wonder what he has in mind? ” 
thought Agnes. “ Some mischief, I am 
sure.” 

Kitty loved pets, especially birds, very 
dearly, and they seemed to love her. She 
had a lot of little downy chickens that 
would follow her about as if they thought 
more of her than of all the world besides, 
and her little brown ducks would waddle 
out of the water whenever they saw her 
coming. Her four snow-white fantail 
pigeons would sit on her shoulders and 
coo as if they were saying, “I love you, 
I love you.” Her bright yellow canary 
would perch on her wrist and eat his tiny 
breakfast from her dainty little hand; 
the sparrows would flock about her when¬ 
ever she was seen and chatter their ad¬ 
miration of her; and in winter when she 






THE CLEVER PARROT 


37 


opened the window, the little snow-birds 
would come from no one knew where, to 
pick up the crumbs which she scattered 
with a lavish hand. 

But her especial pride and glory was 
her African parrot, and a splendid fel¬ 
low he was—large, handsome, and smart 
—and as devoted to Kitty as she was to 
him, which is saying much. He learned 
very readily; she had taught him many 
bright sayings, and sometimes they would 
carry on quite a conversation. He would 
sit on her shoulder, eat out of her hand, 
pretend to cry when she told him to, laugh 
in a queer fashion of his own, and per¬ 
form quite a number of little tricks for 
her, which he would do for no one else. 

Now Fred took him in training and 
kept at it when Kitty was not about, until 
the clever fellow had learned his lesson 
perfectly. 

No one could explain how he came to 
show off at just the right minute; but one 
day when Kitty, in a great hurry to be 




38 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


off for school, went rushing through the 
house, leaving every door open behind 
her, he called out in a loud, commanding 
voice: 

“ Three, four, shut the door; 

Three, four, shut the door! 

Heedless Kitty, shut the door. 

Don’t forget to shut the door. 

Don’t forget, don’t forget. 

Three, four, shut the door ! ” 

Kitty stopped suddenly; her books fell 
to the floor; and she looked the picture 
of astonishment. She did not know 
whether to laugh or to cry, although she 
was so taken by surprise that she felt a 
good deal more like crying than like 
laughing. 

“Well done. Master Poll!” shouted 
teasing Fred, and there was a general 
laugh and clapping of hands at the ex¬ 
pense of poor Kitty, who looked as if 
she might be glad to borrow the wings of 
some of her favorite birds and fly away. 
But she picked up her books and was 
starting away when Poll called out. 


THE CLEVER PARROT 


39 


“Want some breakfast, want some 
breakfast; mighty hungry, mighty hun¬ 
gry ! ’ ’ and then she remembered that 
she had not given him his morning meal, 
which was her special duty. 

When she came home in. the afternoon, 
she heard a terrible piece of news that 
nearly took her breath away. Poll had 
disappeared! Though diligent search 
had been made in every direction, he 
was nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, how did it happen? how did 
it happen?” cried Kitty in distress. 
“Who had any business to meddle with 
my precious Poll ? ” 

‘ ‘ Why, my dear Kitty, you had not 
been gone long,” said her mother, “when 
I went into the room. To my great sur¬ 
prise the cage was empty, its door wide 
open, and Master Poll, after having de¬ 
voured every mouthful of the breakfast 
you gave him, had evidently taken him¬ 
self off on a ‘pleasure excursion,* as 
Fred remarked. When you fed him in 


such a hurry you must have forgot¬ 
ten to shut the door." 



“Rather hard on Poll, after all 
the charges he had just given you," 
said Agnes. 

“Oh, oh!" moaned poor Kitty, the 
tears raining down her face. “How 
could I have done it ? " 

“Itbeats me," said Fred; “and after 
he had talked to you like a Dutch uncle I 
Anyway, he did his duty, and you have 
only yourself to blame." 

“It’s too bad, Kitty," said Agnes, 
“ and I am ever so sorry for you. But 
after this perhaps you will have your 
wits about you and try to make some use 
of the head on your shoulders." 

“But do you suppose that I’ll ever, 
ever find him ? ’ ’ 

“Can’t say," answered Fred. “It 
doesn’t look very much like it just at 
present, for we have been hunting for 
him for hours. You would better make 
up your mind to give him up, I guess. 






































THE CLEVER PARROT 


41 


and then set to work to ‘ turn over a new 
leaf/ which would be a good thing for the 
rest of us, for we^re sick of your slipshod 
ways. * ’ 

“But I might turn over a dozen new 
leaves and it wouldn’t bring back my 
poor, dear, beautiful Poll,” wailed Kitty 
in a fresh burst of grief, too sorry over 
her faults to resent anything that might 
be said to her; then, crying as if her 
heart would break, she rushed off to the 
beautiful grove not far away, which was 
her favorite resort at all times, especially 
when she was either very sad or very 
glad. 

It was a charming spot, with its great 
branching trees and velvety carpet of 
mossy green, which just now, dotted 
with lights and shadows and spangled 
with tiny blue wild flowers, was as rich as 
the choicest carpet that ever was made. 
It sloped down to the edge of a silvery 
lake, the farther side of which was full of 
little inlets and jagged points that were 


42 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL F STORIES 

fringed with drooping willows. Here 
and there was a wee bit of green island, 
or a rugged rock lifted its head out of the 
clear water. 

Just now, in the leafy month of June, 
the grove was musical with the merry or 
plaintive notes of several kinds of birds. 
Kitty knew where there were many nests, 
and had often said that if there was such 
a thing as a fairyland for the birds, this 
must be the very spot of all others. 

Every day she would run down there 
for at least a few minutes, and was never 
happier than when she could stay for a 
long time. Sometimes she would learn 
her lessons there. At other times, she 
would take a favorite story book, and sit¬ 
ting in her pet seat, a most easy, com¬ 
fortable crook in a great tree, she would 
read and read. At the same time she 
would enjoy the chatter of the birds about 
her, for she seldom went without cakes 
or crackers, which she crumbled up and 
scattered around for them. Sometimes 


THE CLEVER PARROT 


43 


she would take her little school singing 
book and sing and sing, with the birds 
joining in the chorus, until she had fairly 
sung herself out. So you see what pleas¬ 
ant times she had in the beautiful grove 
and how easy it was for her to love it. 

But to-day she thought neither of 
stories nor of singing, and even her 
special friends, the birds, were quite for¬ 
gotten, for her heart was truly almost 
broken. She threw herself on the soft 
grass, crying bitterly, and sobbing out: 

“Poor, dear Poll, poor, dear Poll! 
What shall I do, what shall I do ? Why 
didn’t I shut the door, oh, why didn’t I? 
I’ll never leave doors open again, never, 
never I ’ ’ 

By and by she wept more quietly, and 
was just making up her mind that she 
must go and search and search and never 
give up until she had found her precious, 
lost treasure, when she heard the tinkling 
of a sweet bell in the distance which 
seemed to come nearer and nearer, and 


44 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL V S TORIES 

then there was a sudden splashing in the 
water. 

She looked up quickly, and from the 
other side of the lake there darted out 
from one of the leafy inlets the most 
beautiful little boat. Its sails were of 
bright blue, as if made of a bit of the 
summer sky, and it was wreathed with 
the loveliest and most fragrant flowers. 
Large, stately swans swam around it, 
like a guard of honor; dainty humming 
birds flew in and out among the flowers; 
and the most lovely music seemed to 
float through the air above it. Kitty 
drew a long breath of delight, and run¬ 
ning quickly down to the water’s edge, 
waited curiously to see what was going 
to happen. 

“What can it be?” she thought. 
‘ ‘ Where and who am I ? Am I Kitty 
Ray, or some one else?” and she al¬ 
most held her breath in her eagerness. 

The little boat drew nearer, the swans 
parted to each side, the music ceased. 


THE CLEVER PARROT 


45 


and as it touched the shore, there came 
out from among the flowers a most beau¬ 
tiful being. 

“ Oh, who are you ? " gasped Kitty, 
enchanted with the sight. “ I didn’t 
know that there was anything so lovely 
in all the world.” 

‘‘Ah, there isn’t,” was answered in 
sweetest tones. “I dwell in fairyland, 
and there all is loveliness and beauty.” 

‘ ‘ Then what makes you want to come 
down here, where so many things are 
poor and ugly ? ” asked Kitty. 

“ Because our kind fairy queen made 
me the good genius of the birds, and 
sometimes when they, or those who love 
them and are kind to them, are in trouble, 
she sends me down to help them.” 

“ Oh, I love the birds and am good to 
them, and I am in trouble, oh, such 
dreadful trouble! ” Kitty burst out, with 
her heart in her mouth. 

“ Yes, I know all about it, and that is 
why I came,” she answered, softly cool- 


46 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL V STORIES 

ing Kitty’s hot, crimson cheeks with a 
soft breath from her fan of sunset hues. 
“The birds whisper lovely things about 
you, and from our fairy home we look 
down and see how you love them and 
care for them. Your tender heart does 
not forget even the sparrows, and though 
you are a heedless little girl, you have the 
love of the bright spirits of fairyland, 
and we will help you if you will only help 
yourself.” 

“ Help me to find dear, beautiful 
Poll ? ” asked Kitty eagerly. 

“ Yes, and to find yourself; that is,” 
she added gently, “we will help you to 
overcome your heedless, careless, forget¬ 
ful ways, so that you will no longer give 
yourself and every one else so much an¬ 
noyance and trouble.” 

“But Poll!” said Kitty anxiously, 
still full of her great loss. 

“ Poll is quite safe. He is under my 
own care, and just as soon as no one has 
to say, ‘ Shut the door,’ ‘ Don’t forget,’ 


THE CLEVER PARROT 


47 


to Kitty Ray, just as soon as she is no 
longer ‘ Heedless Kitty, ^ Poll shall be 
hers again.” 

“ Oh! ” replied poor Kitty, in a hope¬ 
less tone, “ I am afraid that will never 
be. But I do feel dreadfully bad about 
being so heedless, although they think I 
don't care, and I will try, oh, so very 
hard, just as hard as ever I can.” 

“ That is right, Kitty,” said the fairy. 
“ Try and try all the time, and sometimes 
when you get discouraged, I will whisper 
a little loving word right into your ear, 
and help you to remember, for you love 
my beautiful birds and your heart is pure 
and true.” 

A sudden shower of fragrant rose¬ 
buds, crimson, pink, and white, fell all 
over and around Kitty, and when she 
looked up, the little skiff was gone, the 
fairy music was dying away in the dis¬ 
tance, and the bright sunset was tinting 
the water with a pale, rosy flush and 
lighting up the grove with a golden glory. 


48 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL K STORIES 

Kitty’s mother had often told her that 
if she would only set earnestly about it, 
she could overcome her heedless ways, 
and sometimes she used to think she was 
trying very hard. But she never tried 
very long, and had about made up her 
mind that it was of no use to try at all. 
Now she began to try in real earnest, and 
although it was pretty hard, soon made 
such a change that they all spoke of it 
and wondered what had happened to her. 

Once in a while, just as she was about 
to leave something undone, a sweet voice 
would whisper in her ear, “ Remember,” 
and she would know that the good genius 
of her pets, the birds, had not forgotten 
her promise. But the weeks and months 
went by and no Poll appeared, and she 
was almost discouraged. But one happy 
day—oh, joy!—when she came home 
from school Willie was watching for her 
and called out wildly: 

“ Oh, Kitty, Poll’s in the cage I The 
door was shut, and no one knows how 


THE CLEVER PARROT 


49 


he got in, or where he came from. It 
must be a miracle.” 

Kitty was so eager that she screamed 
with delight and fairly flew into the 
room, forgetting all her good resolves, 
and leaving the door wide open behind 
her. True enough, there was her beau¬ 
tiful Poll on his perch, as large as life and 
handsomer than ever. 

“ Oh, you precious darling! ” she ex¬ 
claimed, almost crying for very joy; 
“ you shall never, never, go away from 
me again.” 

“ Don't be too sure,” replied Poll, as 
sober as a judge; but looking at Kitty 
with a twinkle in his eye, and casting a 
sidewise glance at the open door, he 
added in his sharp, but deep voice: 

“ Three, four, shut the door. 

Three, four, shut the door! 

Don’t forget to shut the door. 

Don’t forget to shut the door. 

Don’t forget, don’t forget.” 

Rushing wildly back, Kitty gave the 

D 


50 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL F STORIES 

door a bang which rang through the 
house and, strange to say, that was the 
very last time that wise Poll or anybody 
else had to say, “Shut the door” to 
thoughtful Kitty. 





i 



( 

J 


i 

.1 





















PHIL’S THREE WISHES 


“ Five, six, 

Pick up sticks.'* 









In a neat little frame house, on the edge 
of a pleasant village, there lived a father 
and mother who were rich in—what do you 
think ? Well, in nothing but a flock of 
bright-eyed boys and girls. They were 
not so very poor though in other things, 
for Mr. Murray, a big, strong, good- 
natured man, was a skilled carpenter who 
earned excellent wages, and his wife was 
a smart woman and tidy housekeeper, 
who knew how to save the pennies as 
fast as they came in, which is a capital 
thing to know. 

Then work was plenty, which is pretty 
apt to be the case when men know how 
to do it well. Sickness had never come 
near them. With half a dozen little hun¬ 
gry mouths to fill and a horse and cow 
to take care of, it was sometimes hard 
work to make the ends meet; but they 

53 












54 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

managed to live very comfortably and lay 
up a little every year besides. 

All the children but the two-year-old 
baby went to the big public school near 
by and were so healthy and fresh looking, 
so clean and neat in their plain clothes, 
that it was a real pleasure to look at 
them. 

So the home, though small and plainly 
furnished, was bright and pleasant; the 
children were happy; the garden always 
had the sweetest flowers and the nicest 
vegetables; and even Jerry, the horse, 
and Jill, the cow, were fat, sleek, and 
happy looking, just as if they felt that 
they had a good time too. And there 
were also Rover, the handsome shepherd 
dog, and Spot, the big tortoise-shell cat, 
to say nothing about the old pig and its 
little ones or the flocks of turkeys, ducks, 
and chickens. They all were so good- 
natured and cheerful that they plainly 
felt they were having a good time. 

Mrs. Murray was a busy, wide-awake 


PHIL'S THREE WISHES 


55 


woman who had not a lazy bone in her, 
and was determined her children should 
not have either. “You will have to work 
for your living all your lives; nobody 
will earn it for you after your father is 
gone,” she used to say to them; “and 
you may just as well begin while you^re 
young.” So each of them was given 
some especial work to do, and it was well 
understood that play could not begin until 
that especial bit of work was done, and 
well done. 

Sometimes this seemed pretty hard to 
them, as they did not like to work any 
better than other boys and girls like it. 
But they grew used to it after a while, 
and did not mind it very much, except 
little Phil, whose business it was to “pick 
up sticks,” as his mother said; that is, 
to keep the lawn, garden, and pasture 
clean and free from sticks, stones, and 
rubbish of all kinds, and he got into 
the naughty way of grumbling a good 
deal about it. 



56 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 



He had been grumbling ever since he 
had seen Ned Hawkins, a boy from New 
York, who was visiting in the village and 
who wore a velvet suit, lace collars and 
cuffs, and the most stylish patent-leather 
buttoned boots. He wished that he too 
lived in New York, and could wear beau¬ 
tiful clothes, and see all the wonderful 
things that Ned, who was a pretty big 
talker for a little boy, told about. It was 
just “horrid’’ to have to live in a little 
village and a little house, to wear plain 
clothes and pick up sticks when other 
boys, no better or brighter than he, lived 
in fine houses in great cities, had beauti¬ 
ful things to wear, and best of all, 
nothing to do. 

More than once he had overheard peo¬ 
ple say that he was “very smart,” and 
one day little Fanny Wheaton told him 
that her Aunt Sally had said that ‘ ‘ Phil 
Murray was as handsome as a picture.” 
So he grew more and more discontented, 
made up his mind that he was greatly 


PHIL'S THREE WISHES 


57 


abused, and, little fellow that he was, 
had about made up his mind to run 
away somewhere, anywhere, off into the 
big splendid world, where there would be 
such lots to see, and where he would 
never have to pick up any more of those 
hateful sticks and things. 

Phil liked fairy stories wonderfully well. 
“Oh, if I just had a magic wand! '' he 
thought one bright summer day as he 
threw himself down on a great pile of 
hay out in the big meadow not far from 
the house. “Wouldn’t I fix things up 
to suit myself though ? I would change 
this stupid little town into a wonderful 
city, this ugly little house into a grand 
palace, and I would be the handsomest 
and best-dressed boy that ever lived.” 

“That’s just what you ought to be,” 
said a soft voice near him. He heard a 
rustling in the hay, and turning his head 
saw standing at his side a dainty, fairy¬ 
like creature who hardly seemed to touch 
the earth. “Hush!” she said, as he 


58 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

Started to speak, and waved a golden 
scepter before him. “This is my magic 
wand; you cannot have it, but I have 
come to use it for you.” 

“For me, for me!” he exclaimed 
with delight. “What can you do with 
it?” 

“Listen,” she answered. “I know 
how you feel. You are a beautiful boy, 
far handsomer than Ned Hawkins; you 
are smart and your spirit is high and 
proud. This is no place for you, and it 
is no wonder that you cannot feel at 
home. You ought to have been born a 
prince.” 

“Oh, I know it, I know it!” he ex¬ 
claimed. “ Something has been whisper¬ 
ing that to me for a long time. And why 
wasn’t I?” 

“That is neither here nor there,” 
answered the fairy, “but it was a great 
mistake, and I am come with my fairy 
chariot to take you where you belong, 
and where beauty, grace, and wit such 






PHIL'S THREE WISHES 


59 


as yours will receive praise and admira¬ 
tion, instead of being slighted. A poor 
little house, a plain, common father and 
mother, brothers and sisters whose eyes 
are so blinded that they cannot see how 
lovely you are, and a place where every¬ 
body has to work and scrub for his daily 
bread, are not for you.'* 

“Oh, I know it, and I just hate such 
things, rd like to get away from them 
just as quick as I can, the sooner the bet¬ 
ter, and it will be ever so jolly. But 
where are you going to take me ? ^' 

“That is for you to say. You must 
make three wishes, and they will be 
granted at once. But you must promise 
beforehand that you will be content with 
what you decide on, and not wish after¬ 
ward that you had chosen something else. 
Now you can wish.” 

“ Of course Til be pleased, for I know 
exactly what I want,” replied Phil ex¬ 
citedly. “But what shall I say first? 
Let me see. Well, ‘one to begin’: I 


6o MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


want to live in a great, grand house, in 
some big city; New York’s the biggest, 
I guess, so rd like to go there.” 

“You know there are some pleasant 
things about a little village like this; are 
you sure you’d like a city better?” 

‘ ‘ Why, what a funny question ! Of 
course I would, and I’d soon forget all 
about this homely, stupid little place. 
I’m just sick of it and don’t care if I 
never see it again.” 

“Well, what next?” 

“Just wait a minute till I see what I 
want to have come first. Now then, 
‘ two to show ’: I would like to have a 
rich father and mother, like Ned Haw¬ 
kins, and be the only child, just as he is. 
Then I can have everything I want, and 
not have to divide up, the way I do now. 
I hate that.” 

“That sounds very fine, but are you 
sure you could get along without this 
father and mother and your brothers and 
sisters ?’ ’ 


PHIL'S THREE I PISHES 


6i 


“Oh, yes, they don't care about the 
things I do; they like work; they seem 
to think it's fun, real fun. They aren't 
a bit like me; and if I have everything 
else I wouldn't miss them." 

‘ ‘ Very well. What's the other wish ?'' 

“That's the question. What do you 
think about it? I wish you'd tell me." 

“ Oh, I'm not going to help you; you 
must decide for yourself, and remember 
it is your last chance." 

“Oh, well then, I know: I never 
want to work a bit again in all my life. 
I've had enough of it. I never want to 
hear, ‘Five, six, pick up sticks,* again as 
long as I live. I do hope that they don't 
have any sticks and rubbish in New York; 
of course they don't. Won't I be too 
grand and happy for anything, though? " 

“You've got a pretty old head on 
young shoulders," said the fairy, with a 
laugh; ‘ ‘ and now for the touch of my 
magic wand, which will turn all these 
wishes into realities ! Are you ready? " 


62 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL V STORIES 

“Oh, yes, yes!” said Phil eagerly. 
“ I can hardly wait; and I just wish you’d 
hurry up. Good-bye, everybody; good¬ 
bye forever,” he murmured, as the fairy 
waved the magic wand gently over him. 

She blew a little silver whistle, and 
there suddenly appeared a golden chariot, 
to whose wheels were attached the most 
wonderful spreading wings, all gleaming 
with jewels which sparkled in the sunlight. 
Almost before he knew it, he was lying 
on the silken cushions, with a little fay 
beside him, who waved a starry fan above 
him, and a tiny footman, who held a gor¬ 
geous umbrella, made of a bit of the 
sunset clouds, over his head. 

The golden chariot went gliding through 
the air at a surprising speed, for it was 
borne along by the wide-spreading wings 
as if it were a bird. The fairy was seated 
beside him, a long train of fays followed, 
sailing gracefully through the air, and he 
was just wishing that he might ride a long 
time, when they came to a stop, and he 




PHILOS THREE WISHES 63 

found himself in the most beautiful house 
he had ever dreamed of. 

Strangely enough, it did not seem at 
all new to him; it was at once as if he 
had always been there, and he went about 
as naturally as could be. A handsome, 
richly dressed woman and a grand, 
stately man called him “ my son ” ; every¬ 
thing seemed to be his; he came and 
went as he chose, did what he had a mind 
to, and whenever he wished for anything 
it suddenly was there in some mysterious 
fashion. How delightful it all was ! 

And his clothes ! Such lots of them as 
there were! Why, the big closet and 
bureau in his large room did not begin to 
hold them. They overflowed into other 
rooms and closets, were as handsome as 
they could be, and in the height of style. 
Ned Hawkins’ weren’t to be compared to 
them. He had a fresh lace collar, and a 
clean embroidered handkerchief, all sweet 
with the choicest perfume—of which he 
was very fond-—every day. 


64 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


His own bedroom, with a large sitting 
room opening out of it, was fine enough 
for a prince. Such furniture, carpets, 
draperies, and mirrors he had never heard 
of, and when he looked in the great one 
between the large windows, and saw such 
a handsome little fellow, so finely dressed 
and so stylish looking, he was not quite 
sure whether it was really himself or not. 
He did not seem to have a thought of the 
old times ; they vanished completely from 
his mind; this beautiful place had always 
been his home, always would be, and he 
was about as happy as a boy could be. 

He had beautiful books, pictures, and 
games, so much pocket money that he 
hardly knew what to do with it, and a 
gay little bicycle, the one thing of all 
others he had most wanted. But such 
an one as this he had never dreamed 
of, for it was all hung around with little 
tinkling silver bells, which seemed to say, 
“ Tm coming. I’m coming,” and was the 
envy of all the boys in the neighborhood. 




rillL'S THREE WISHES 65 

But his choicest possession was a coal- 
black pony, with flowing mane and tail 
and dainty white feet, and when he rode 
in Central Park or on the Boulevard, at¬ 
tended by a groom in livery, and saw how 
people turned to look after him, he 
thought he was about the happiest, most 
fortunate boy that ever lived. It was all 
so delightful that his dear old hard-work¬ 
ing father and mother, teasing Robbie, 
and the rest of them, never troubled his 
memory, and he never wanted to hear of 
school or work again as long as he lived. 

This lasted for many months, and had 
the wise fairy who whirled him away in 
her golden chariot, whispered in his ear 
that he would tire of it all, or ever want 
anything else, he would not have believed 
her. 

But after a time, some way he did not 
seem to be quite so happy, although he 
could not quite tell why. He did not 
care so much about his books, pictures, 
and games; he was tired of his bicycle ,* 

E 


66 MAKMAD UKE MUL TIPL Y STORIES 

his coal-black pony did not go half so 
fast as it used to; his fine clothes did not 
look near as handsome as they once did; 
he did not see anything he wanted to buy; 
and the boys and girls who lived near by 
did not seem to care to play with him 
very much. Time hung heavy on his 
hands, and he was almost ready to go to 
school or to work at something, if there 
was only anything to do; but there was 
not; school or work was never mentioned. 

He was by no means ready to admit 
though that he was tired of it all and 
homesick, and so he tried to act as if he 
enjoyed himself as much as ever. But 
one day in the street he caught sight of a 
little boy who looked like Robbie, and he 
could stand it no longer. As soon as he 
got home he had a big cry and thought he 
would give everything he had if he could 
only see mamma, Lucia, and Robbie. 
The more he thought about it the more he 
longed for them and for the little old 
home he used to dislike so much. Sad, 


PHIL'S THREE I PISHES 


67 


hard days for poor Phil went by, for in 
spite of the great city, the beautiful house, 
the fine clothes, and everything else he 
had once wanted so much, he had a 
hungry little heart and could find no com¬ 
fort in anything. 

One morning in the pretty arbor of the 
long, lovely garden, he laid his curly 
head down on the seat and cried and 
cried until he was sure there could not be 
any tears left. 

“ Hoity, toity!” exclaimed a gay, 
light voice near him. “A pretty little 
boy like you, a boy who has everything 
in the world he wants, shouldn’t waste his 
time crying like that. What’s the mat¬ 
ter?” 

‘ ‘ Matter enough, ’ ’ replied Phil, through 
his tears. “ But who are you ? I can’t 
see any one.” 

“No, I keep out of sight on purpose; 
but you know me all the same. I’m a 
good fairy and am bound on an errand of 
mercy.” 


68 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORxES 

“ I never, never want to see a fairy 
again,” said Phil; “and I just wish 
they’d keep away. They only bring 
trouble, though they pretend to be our 
great friends.” 

‘ ‘ Why, what have they done to you ? 
I for one have a tender heart, and it 
hurts me to have you cry.” 

“ Oh, I know your voice!” said Phil, 
starting eagerly forward. “It was you 
who brought me here. Oh, what made 
you do it? I just wish you had not.” 

“ Fie, fie, what a foolish boy! You 
ought to be as happy as the day is long, 
for you got just what you asked for and 
wanted so much; and here you are cry¬ 
ing about it and scolding me. What 
nonsense! ” 

“ But I didn’t want it, after all,” 
sobbed Phil. “ I thought I did, but I 
didn’t, oh, I didn’t, and I want to go 
back.” 

‘ ‘ What! want to go back to that hor¬ 
rid little village and ugly little house. 


PHIL'S THREE WISHES 69 

away from this great city and splendid 
mansion? What's the matter with the 
boy?" 

“ Oh, but the little village was pretty, 
after all, and the little house was pleasant 
if it wasn’t very big." 

But they didn’t suit such a handsome 
boy as you, who ought to have been born 
a prince and to live in a palace." 

“ Oh, I don’t care. They all loved 
me there, and I want to see mamma and 
Lucia and Robbie. Oh, take me back, 
take me back ! ’’ and he stretched out 
his hands pleadingly. 

“ But you know they are very plain, 
common people; people you never cared 
to see again." 

Don’t say that; oh, don’t! I didn’t 
mean it, it isn’t so. I love them, and 
they love me. Please take me back 
again." 

“ But you’ll have to wear ugly, coarse 
clothes, you know..’’ 

** I don’t care; I’m sick of fine ones." 


70 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL V STORIES 

“ And you’ll have to go to school, and 
you know you hate that.” 

“ But I had lots of fun, all the same. 
The boys and girls all knew each other, 
and we had such good times together. 
I’d like to study now, I know I would, 
and Td just do my very best. Oh, oh, I 
do want to go back, away from everything 
here ! ” and again Phil broke down and 
cried harder than ever. 

“ Well, I must say that you are a hard 
boy to please, with all your notions,” 
said the fairy with a frown. “You’d 
better know your own mind the next 
time.” 

‘ ‘ But there won’t be any ‘ next time, ’ ’ ’ 
gasped Phil. “ If I once get there I’ll 
never want to go away again. I’ve had 
enough.” 

“You mustn’t forget that you’ll have to 
work, ‘pick up sticks,’ and do all that 
sort of thing. Remember how you hated 
it, how sick you were of it.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember all about it. 


PHILOS THREE WISHES 


71 


indeed I do. But I'd just like to work 
and ‘ pick up sticks ’ again, if I could 
only see mamma and all the rest of them 
—and Jerry and Jill, and Rover and 
Spot. Oh, let me go, do let me go! 
If you don’t I’ll cry my poor eyes out,” 
and again he stretched out his arms 
pleadingly. 

“Why, Phil, my dear, what’s the 
matter?” said a soothing voice that 
sounded strangely like his dear mother’s. 
“ What is it ? What has happened? ” 
and Phil sat up on the hay looking bewil¬ 
dered and frightened, while the tears 
fairly rained down his flushed cheeks. 

“Oh, mamma, where am I?” he 
asked, clinging to her as if he feared 
some one would tear him away. “ Where 
is the fairy and the golden chariot with 
wings? And what has become of the 
beautiful house and all my new clothes ? ’ ’ 

“ Why, what are you talking about? ” 
asked Robbie, with astonishment. 


72 MARAIADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

“ But what has become of the fairy? ” 
asked Phil again, rubbing his eyes and 
looking around in an uncertain way. 
“And is that Robbie?” 

“Why, yes, my dear, and you must 
have been here asleep on the hay for 
ever so long. We looked for you every¬ 
where, and Robbie was really frightened 
for fear you were lost. You must have 
been dreaming, I think.” 

‘ ‘ Am I really here with you, mamma ? ’' 
he asked, beginning to be himself again, 
and looking anxiously around as if every¬ 
thing were new and strange. “ Oh, I'm 
so glad; I thought I never would be here 
any more,” and again he stopped to 
cry, but this time the tears were great 
shining drops of joy. 

“ What makes you cry then, if you’re 
so glad? ” asked Robbie doubtfully. 
“ You've just had a dream, I guess, and 
that’s what makes you act so queer.” 

“ Oh, was it a dream? ” echoed Phil, 
catching his breath. “ I’m just as glad 


PHILOS THREE WISHES 


73 


as I can be, for I thought I was never 
going to see you again as long as I lived. 
I want to stay right in this village and 
this house, and never go away anymore.” 
Then he told them all about his dream 
and the wonderful things he had seen, 
and Robbie and Lucia would hardly let 
him stop, and thought it must have been 
perfectly beautiful. 

“ But not so nice as our dear, pleasant 
home,” replied Phil, and that was the 
very last of the fault-finding, discon¬ 
tented little boy. 

The wise fairy had taught him a good 
lesson, and as the happy weeks went by 
he loved his little home and all the dear 
ones in it more and more; the village 
seemed a very pretty place, and even the 
old red schoolhouse had a little charm of 
its own. He was so bright, happy, and 
busy that everybody liked and respected 
him, and he was never more contented 
than when he went his daily round of 
work “ picking up sticks.” 



( 

\ 

[* 




THE “SURE-ENOUGH” FAIRY 


'' Seveny eight, 

Lay them straight. ‘ 



“ Big Tim” it had always been, and 
“Big Tim” it was likely to be to the 
end of the chapter, for he was head and 
shoulders above everybody else, and so 
big every way as to make all the little 
folks who went to Sunday-school think of 
the great giant Goliath, whom young 
David killed with the stone from his little 
sling. 

To be sure Big Tim was nothing but a 
bricklayer, but “a man’s a man fora’ 
that,” and he did his work so well, was 
so honest and faithful, and withal so 
tender-hearted and generous, that he was 
truly one of “nature’s noblemen,” and 
so had the right to carry his broad 
shoulders and big head with an air a 
prince might envy, and step with a tread 
that would grace a czar. 

Big Tim was always bright and cheery, 

77 






















78 MAR MAD UKE MUL 7 UPL V STORIES 

and all his friends—and he had many 
and many of them—liked nothing better 
than to see his friendly smile and hear 
his hearty greeting. But with all this he 
was often very sad and anxious, for ten- 
year-old Tim, his only son, the joy of 
his great, warm heart and the light of his 
big, honest blue eyes, instead of being 
stout, strong, and hearty, as Big Tim 
thought his son ought to be—poor Little 
Tim was puny and delicate, with pale 
cheeks, slender arms, tender little body, 
and poor little feet that turned in instead 
of out, so that he was lame and awk¬ 
ward and could not run, skip, and jump 
in the way the other boys did. 

For all that, he was quite as smart as 
any of them, stood right up at the head 
of his class when he was in school, and 
when visitors came, was pretty sure to be 
called upon to speak or to sing, for he 
had a high, sweet voice, clear and musi¬ 
cal, that every one was glad to hear, and 
a happy, hearty way with him, so like 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


79 


his father’s, that no one ever thought of 
calling him anything but “ Little Tim.” 

He loved his school, of course he did, 
as all bright and good children do, and 
was never willing to stay away when it 
was possible for him to go. But there 
was something he loved still better, and 
that was to play the little bricklayer, as 
he did during the long summer vacations, 
and in the shorter ones too as they came 
along one after the other. Nothing in 
all the world was quite as nice as that, 
especially when some fine, great building 
was going up, whose towering stories he 
could count, and in whose strong walls 
he took great pride, because he and his 
father had helped them to rise. 

Big Tom too liked nothing better than 
to have such a dear little helper at his 
side. He would catch the slight figure 
up under his arm at the foot of the tall 
ladder, and then mount it with steady 
step, up, up, carrying his small load as 
if it were the easiest thing in the world. 


8o MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

Then Little Tim would laugh and laugh 
with delight, fish his baby trowel out of 
the depths of his father’s pocket, dip it 
in the mortar, and lay brick after brick 
evenly in its place, singing merrily in his 
sweetest notes: 

“ Seven, eight, lay them straight. 

Seven, eight, lay them straight. 

I must count them correctly, and then 1 must wait; 
I must count them correctly, and then I must wait. 
Must wait, wait, wait.” 

Big Tim was so good a workman that 
he was seldom out of a job, and so it 
was that Little Tim’s happy song became 
a familiar sound. The rough men loved 
to hear it as they went about their work, 
the passers-by would stop to listen, 
as “ Seven, eight, lay them straight; 
seven, eight, lay them straight, straight, 
straight,” rang sweetly out on the soft 
summer air like a breath of melody from 
another world. 

Little Tim was one of the happy mor¬ 
tals who believe all the old nursery leg- 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


8 i 


ends. He was devoted to Santa Claus 
and his reindeer, stood in awe of Blue¬ 
beard and his doings, and exulted in 
Jack the Giant-killer. He loved the 
flowers, the woods, the mountains, im¬ 
agined odd little brownies glancing about 
here and there, and dainty elves dancing 
in the silvery moonlight, and was certain 
that kind fairies watched over good chil¬ 
dren to smooth their pathways. 

He had a firm belief, way down in the 
very bottom of his heart, that if he was 
pure and true, some good, tender-hearted 
fairy would some day take pity on his 
poor, crooked little feet, and with a touch 
of her fairy sceptre would straighten 
them out, and at the same time make 
him well and strong, so that he could 
run and play as the other boys did, and 
by and by earn good wages, like his 
father. 

He was singing away one bright, sun¬ 
shiny morning, high up on the walls of 
the new Oliver Bank Building, where his 








82 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

father was at work, and where his little 
trowel was as busy as anybody’s, and 
the sweet notes rang out fresh and clear; 

“ Seven, eight, lay them straight. 

Seven, eight, lay them straight, 
i must count them correctly, and then I must wait. 
Must wait—wait—w-a-i-t.” 

He was not thinking of the words nor 
of his work either, although he was quite 
unconsciously taking pains that each 
brick should lie exactly on the line. His 
thoughts were off on a journey, flitting 
about here and there, glancing at the 
little boys way below him who were play¬ 
ing leap-frog, or at the little girls far oft 
in the distance chasing their hoops, and 
then returning almost sadly to himself, 
wondering whether the time would ever 
come when he too could have such jolly 
times as they were having. The tender¬ 
hearted fairy must surely know what a 
good boy he was trying to be, and how 
anxious he was to do all his work well. 
Where was she? and why didn't she come 


THE S URE-ENO UGH FAIR V 83 

and make him well? He was almost 
tired of waiting for her, and some of the 
big tears gathering in his soft blue eyes 
were almost ready to fall for fear she had 
forgotten him. 

So when on hearing a little unusual 
rustle, he turned to see what it was, and 
caught sight of a vision of beauty just at 
the top of the tall ladder not far off, it 
was perhaps no wonder that he suddenly 
stopped his singing, dropped his trowel, 
and gazed in speechless wonder. Was 
it indeed the good fairy at last? 

She was a little creature, all in a lovely 
blue that looked like a bit of the summer 
sky, with nodding plumes on her big hat, 
as white as the soft, fleecy clouds over 
his head, and long curls flowing over her 
shoulders like the bright hue of a golden 
sunset. 

Little Tim longed to cry out with sur¬ 
prise and delight, but held his breath for 
fear she would vanish. But no, she was 
coming directly toward him, holding the 






84 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

hand of the superintendent of the build¬ 
ing, Mr. Morris. Here she was, close 
by, and as Mr. Morris turned to give 
some directions to Big Tim, she spoke: 

“ Say, little boy, what made you stop 
singing when you saw me? ” 

Little Tim was almost startled that she 
should speak like common mortals, but it 
gave him courage. Looking at her with 
wondering eyes, he asked anxiously and 
hardly above a whisper: 

“ Oh, are you a fairy? " 

“ A fairy ! ” repeated the vision, with 
a merry laugh. “Why, no. What 
makes you ask such a funny question? 
I am nothing but a little girl, just as you 
are nothing but a little boy.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just thought 
you were the good fairy I’m waiting 
for,” he replied in a disappointed tone. 

“That is too funny for anything, though 
sometimes I wish I was a fairy just for a 
little while, you know. But I’m nothing 
but Daisy, only Daisy.” 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 85 

“ Oh, then you must be a flower, a 
big, beautiful flower out of fairyland,” 
and Little Tim gazed at her admiringly. 

“Why, you funny boy. Fm just a 
girl, Daisy, Daisy Oliver, and I live in 
the big house up on the hill. Guess you 
know it, don’t you? It’s my papa that 
keeps the bank that is building this big, 
new building. I heard you singing, and 
so I begged nurse to let Mr. Morris bring 
me up here. What made you stop when 
you saw me? I just wanted you to go 
right on, because it sounded too sweet for 
anything, just as if it came down from 
the clouds.” 

“But as long as you aren’t a fairy, 
I’m sorry you came up.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because now you see I am so lame 
and have such crooked feet, I’m afraid 
you won’t want to hear me sing any 
more.” 

“Is that what you want a good fairy 
for, to make your feet all straight ? ’ ’ 


86 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

asked Daisy shyly, gently smoothing the 
slender little hand he held out to her. 
“I’m so sorry,” she added with sym¬ 
pathy. 

“Then if you were a fairy, you would 
help me, wouldn’t you? Oh, I just 
thought you were, and I’m so sorry,” 
and Little Tim found it hard work to 
keep from crying. But he would have 
been much ashamed if he had cried. 

Daisy began to feel guilty because she 
was nothing but a girl, and to talk of 
something else, said abruptly: 

“ Mr. Morris says that your name is 
Little Tim, and that my papa knows your 
papa. I’m awful glad he does, because 
now we can be friends, and you will sing 
for me, won’t you? Please sing now.” 

The two children sat down together on 
a big pile of timber, and Little Tim sang 
and sang, while Daisy kept time with her 
dainty little foot, or joined in when she 
could, her tender heart full of delight in 
the song and of sympathy with the little 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 87 

singer. Then they chattered away as if 
they were great friends until Mr. Morris 
came for 'her. As Little Tim saw the 
bright vision start down the ladder, he 
looked longingly after her, not quite cer¬ 
tain whether she were not, after all, a 
vanishing dream of the fairyland of which 
he thought so often. 

Perched on her father’s knee in the 
great library, before the big blazing fire, 
Daisy was happy, but trembling with 
eagerness for the promised permission to 
tell the experiences of the day. 

“ Now, then,” finally said Mr. Oliver, 
“ if you can’t wait any longer, you may 
begin. But break it gently, pet ; don’t 
surprise me too much, all at once.” 

“Well, popsie dear, it’s just about a 
little boy, ‘ Little Tim,’ and something I 
want you to let me do.” 

‘ ‘ About a boy ! Already ! Seems 
to me that’s rather previous for a young 
miss of ten years. But what of him? ” 


88 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

% 

“Mr. Morris says that you know his 
papa, ‘ Big Tim,’ and that he is splendid. 
I saw him to-day, and he’s even bigger 
than you are, you dear popsie, you.” 

“ He is not to blame for that, as I see. 
But, yes, I know him, and he is a very 
worthy, capable fellow.” 

“ Well, he has a little boy, and he’s 
ten years old, just like me.” 

“You don’t object to that, do you? 
I don’t see how you can very well help 
it.” 

“Why no, of course I don’t. I like 
it. And he has yellow hair, like mine, 
and blue eyes, like mine, and his face is 
pretty.” 

“ Just like mine, I suppose,” put in 
Mr. Oliver. 

“ Oh, you naughty popsie, of course 
I didn’t mean that,” said Daisy, giving 
him a kiss and a squeeze. “ And then,” 
in a low voice, “ he has no dear mamma, 
just like poor me, and besides, oh, popsie, 
he is not very strong; he is lame and his 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 89 

poor little feet are all crooked, and not 
straight and nice like mine. Isn’t it too 
very bad? ” and Daisy’s sweet face was 
full of sympathy. 

“Yes, indeed, my precious little 
daughter. And doesn’t it make you 
feel how thankful you ought to be that 
you are well and strong, and that your 
little feet are free to come and go as they 
will?” and he kissed his dainty darling 
as if she were indeed the most precious 
thing in all the world. 

“ It made me wish that he was well 
and strong too. And popsie, if you 
could only hear him sing! It’s just as if 
he didn’t know he was singing, just as if 
it sung itself. It made me so happy to 
hear him, and it seemed as if he forgot 
all about his crooked feet while he sang.” 

“Come, come, this is a very pretty 
little story you are making up; you don’t 
expect me to believe it all, do you? ” 

“Of course I do, and I’m going to 
take you to hear him sing. But there’s 


90 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

something else to tell, and it’s very 
funny. It just makes me laugh to think 
of it. He thought I was a fairy, a real, 
live fairy.” 

“Well, that was funny, true enough. 
But you’re papa’s fairy pet, anyway.” 

“Oh, yes, I know that; but not such 
a real fairy as he is waiting for.” 

* ‘ What do you mean by that ? ’ ’ 

“ Something very nice, that you ■will 
like. He believes that kind fairies watch 
over little boys and girls, so he is trying 
to be very good and true; for he thinks 
that if he is, some one of them will come 
some day, and with her magic wand and 
some mysterious words make him all 
well and his feet all straight. Do you 
think she will, popsie? Please say yes.” 
“ What do you think about it? ” 

Daisy was very quiet for a while, lean¬ 
ing her golden head on her father’s 
shoulder, and gently stroking his face 
with her soft little hand, and then she 
asked quickly: 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


91 


“ Popsie, did grandma leave me much 
money? 

“ Enough to keep you from starving, I 
think.” 

“ Why, I thought you bought what we 
had to eat with the money you get out of 
the bank? ” 

“ Guess I do; that’s a fact,” he said 
laughingly. “ What next? ” 

‘ ‘ What do you do with all the rest 
then?” 

“ I am taking the best care I can of 
it, so that when you have become a nice 
young lady and a sensible woman, you 
may have it to do good with.” 

“ Couldn’t I do good with some of it 
now, if I wanted to? ” 

‘ ‘ What do you know about ‘ doing 
good ’ with it, I’d like to know ? An¬ 
other rather previous suggestion for a 
ten-year-older, seems to me. What are 
we coming to? ” 

Daisy was again very quiet for a little 
time, but her busy brain was hard at 


92 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

work. Her father wondered what would 
come next, and for a moment did not 
catch the connection as she asked: 

“You remember about the portrait 
show, don't you, popsie ?" 

“ The one last fall, when we sent dear 
mamma's portrait and yours, you mean? 
Yes, of course I do." 

“You know it was given for a big 
hospital, where boys and girls go who 
are lame, and where they are made all 
well and straight, like other people." 

“Yes, I know; the Orthopedic Hos¬ 
pital, where deformities in children are 
prevented or cured." 

‘ ‘ I think that is a very funny name; 
I wonder if it takes much money to go 
there. Do you suppose the doctor there 
could turn Little Tim's feet around so 
that they would be straight and nice like 
mine? " 

“ Hospitals are expensive places some¬ 
times, and doctors, or rather surgeons, do 
some very wonderful things nowadays." 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


93 


Daisy slipped her thinking-cap on 
again; there was another silence, and 
then she asked eagerly: 

“ Didn’t the English artist say that he 
thought my portrait looked like a fairy’s 
picture? Nurse says he did.” 

“Yes, I believe he said something of 
the kind.” 

“ And Little Tim thought I was a 
fairy. Wasn’t.it funny? Well, I want 
to be a fairy, a good fairy, just for once, 
and, please popsie, you must help.” 

“ What’s all this? Help you to be a 
fairy and fly away off to fairyland? Not 
a bit of it. You’d never come back to 
your poor old popsie, and that wouldn’t 
do, you know.” 

“But, popsie dear, we don’t really 
believe in fairies and fairyland, as Little 
Tim does, you know; we only play we 
do. But couldn’t we be a kind of good 
fairy to poor Little Tim ? ’ ’ 

“ We can always be ‘ a kind of good 
fairy ’ to any one who is in trouble, or 


94 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

needs help that we can give. But what 
is it you wish to do for Little Tim ? ’ * 

“ I want to put him in the big hos¬ 
pital with the funny name, where the doc¬ 
tor will make him all well, and to pay him 
for doing it with some of the money 
grandma gave me. Then wouldn't I 
truly be Little Tim’s good fairy, just as 
much as if I came out of fairyland ? 
And can’t I, can’t I do it, popsie dear?” 

“Well, you’re my precious fairy, little 
one, and you keep your old popsie’s 
heart as fresh as a May morning and as 
tender as spring. How could I say ‘ No ’ 
to you, even if I wished to?” 

“ Oh, I know what that means,” ex¬ 
claimed Daisy ecstatically, covering her 
father’s face with glowing kisses, and 
slipping down from his knee to execute 
a gay little dance around his chair, “ and 
I’m just too glad for anything.” 

“But you must not be glad in too 
much of a hurry, my dear little daughter. 
We shall have to learn just how much it 



would cost, how long it would take, what 
the surgeons think about it, whether Little 
Tim would be willing to go, and whether 
his father would consent to it. You see 
it takes lots of thinking to be a good 
fairy on a large scale.” 

“ But Little Tim’ll be only too glad to 
go; I just know he will. And Til beg 
the doctor to make him well. If he only 
hears him sing I'm sure he'll try with all 
his might. And then you must make 
Big Tim say ‘ Yes.' ” 

And so one fine day it all came about 
that Little Tim found himself in the big 
hospital with the funny name, where he 
had a little white bed in a little white 
room, which was fragrant with the flow¬ 
ers that Daisy's tender hands had brought, 
and bright with the gay pictures she had 
hung on the walls. 

The surgeons had told Little Tim that 
the poor, crooked feet could be made 
straight, but that they would have to be 
cut and bandaged, that weights would 





























96 MARMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 

have to be fastened to them, and that he 
would have to be bound to a board, so 
that the lower part of his body could not 
move at all. It had all sounded very ter¬ 
rible to poor Little Tim; but there was a 
brave heart in the puny body, and he 
screwed his courage up, ready to suffer 
anything if he could only be like the 
other boys, and ready to bear almost any 
amount of pain when Daisy told him how 
much she wanted him to be “ all well.** 

But the worst was all over without his 
knowing anything about it, though it 
seemed very strange to him to be lying 
on that little white bed, quite unable to 
move his feet, and feeling almost as if he 
did not have any. Were the surgeons 
indeed sure that they would come out all 
right, and that he would be able to run 
and jump as the rest of the boys did? 

“ Yes, quite sure,** and how happy he 
was, and so obedient and patient. 

Daisy brought him books, blocks, and 
games, and he would sing, sing, sing. 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


97 


sometimes nearly all the day long. Many ■ 
of the poor little suffering boys and girls 
in the long wards would almost forget 
their pains as they listened to the sweet 
tones. He liked to sit propped up in 
bed and play with his blocks as if they 
were bricks, and then would come the 
old refrain that Daisy loved to hear: 

“ Seven, eight, lay them straight. 

Seven, eight, lay them straight. 

1 must count them correctly, and then I must wait. 
Must wait, w-a-i-t—w-a-i-t.” 

He was such a dear, grateful little 
patient, so happy, even while he was so 
helpless, that his doctor and nurse could 
hardly do enough for him, and with Daisy 
and her father to keep an eye on him be¬ 
sides, it is no wonder that he had a good 
start and gained rapidly from the very 
first. Oh, what a thankful heart he had ! 

But a great disappointment was in store 
for him, for Mr. Oliver was going away 
off across the water, and had decided to 
take Daisy with him. She hardly knew 

G 


98 MAR MAD UKE MUL TIPL Y STORIES 

how to go and leave Little Tim, and he 
was afraid that his heart was quite broken 
at the mere thought of such a thing. 
What would that little room be without 
her? and how would he know one day 
from another if she did not come? 

“ But you'll be all well when I come 
back,” she said hopefully, trying to com¬ 
fort him, “ and I’ll bring you some pretty 
things and have lots to tell you too. I’ll 
write you some letters and you must 
write to me, and when I get home, how 
nice it will be, won’t it ? ” 

So Little Tim consoled himself with that 
idea, meaning to get well as fast as he 
could, and, although it sometimes seemed 
slow work and he was almost discour¬ 
aged, he never gave up, but kept bright 
and cheerful all the time, singing his 
sweet little songs and doing exactly as 
doctor and nurse wished to have him. 
At last came his reward. When he 
walked out of the big hospital, a little 
slowly, but with feet like those of other 


THE SURE-ENOUGH FAIRY 


99 


boys, and stronger and better than he 
had ever been, every one rejoiced with 
him, although they hated to have him go. 

Daisy was away for many months. 
When she returned she could hardly be¬ 
lieve that it was indeed Little Tim who 
ran to meet her. Little Tim now bright 
and strong, with red cheeks and brown 
hands, not a bit lame, and with feet “ all 
straight ” like her own. 

“ Oh, popsie, how glad it makes me ! ” 
she whispered, half crying for very joy. 
“ I was a good fairy, after all, wasn’t I? 
So were you too, a great big fairy, and 
aren’t we happy, though? ” 

‘‘ My dear little daughter,” he an¬ 
swered, “ there is no happiness in all this 
wide world like doing for others. You 
have much; much will be required of you; 
and opportunities are always at hand for 
playing the good fairy.” 

‘ ‘ Even if she is nothing but a little 
girl,” said Little Tim to his father, “ she 
is my very, very own good fairy, my 


loo MAKMADUKE MULTIPLY STORIES 


sure-enough fairy, and I’ll never believe 
that she didn’t slip out of fairyland in 
some way, and come down here to live, 
iust because she knew how hard I was 
trying to be a good boy and how I wanted 
to be like other boys.” 

“And to reward her,” replied Big 
Tim, with a trembling voice, “you must 
be a good, faithful boy and man in every 
way, honest and true, frank and manly, 
and then all the good fairies will help you 
to be useful and successful.” 



































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